Drops of Color/Night~Fall

Drops of Color

Night-Fall

You have held the day
casting light
chasing away shadows.

You begin your descent
giving way to the
night.

The sounds of the ocean
loud and fierce—
I can no longer SEE the curl
of the wave into the shore.
Yet, I hear it crash.

Closing my eyes,
I am lulled to sleep
sweet dreams of light
comforted like a blanket

in night’s fall.

A Potter’s Wheel

A Potter’s Wheel

The moon drifting
into the depths of the western sky.
Deep blue shades laced with hints
of lavender.

An arm’s reach—
stretching across the ceiling overhead—
the eastern ‘print’ growing in 
hues…pink, orange and other splashes
unwritten by crayola.

Softly, my steps crunched the ground
frosted in winter’s bedroom…
The season invited me ‘in’
as did its roommates…

Before my eyes,
clinging to the ground,
—a Great Horned Owl.
Wings outstretched like a canopy…
in its talons a small bird
—its prey.

We shared a glance,
but the meal was his.

Lofting itself into the skeletal trees,
he carried the feathered creature…
—its weight did not encumber his 
take off.

Perched in the branches,
he looked first to his left
then he turned to the right.
Suddenly, like a potter’s wheel, his
head twirled effortlessly
scanning every which way.

I stood motionless—
He flew deeper into the woods.

I walked
glancing left
then right.

I twirled
beneath the sheets of
clouds just overhead.

Dizzy…
I tumbled to the frozen earth.

Was I prey?
or was I predator?
Was I both?

The silent echo of my breath
lifted to meet the frozen particles
joining the vapor spewed from
my being.

This bedroom I was held in
was both ‘comforter’
and a final place of rest.

Who’s There?

Who’s There?

Tiny ‘dimples’—
light beams
like a face filled with
freckles—
the dome above my head painted in stars.

The wind hollowed—
my steps not my own.
I was pulled in the direction
of a ‘breath’ guiding
each ‘sole’ planting itself.
I, a mere vessel.
The sail of my being
thrust in the current’s flow.

But, then
a sudden sound.
What was it?
It, too, held in the swirl
and it pushed drawing nearer 
to me.

I did not look back…
Instead, I picked up my pace,
yet, whatever was behind me
seemed to be doing the same thing.

‘Crackle,’ then ‘crunch’…
then, one long chord~~~
a musical note struck
skidding across
earth’s skin.

Before I had a
moment to turn,
the wind caught me
from behind. The pursuer
clung to my back.

A soft blow~~~
the equivalent of a gentle caress.

After its ‘strike,’
it delicately
hovered until it touched
the ground.

I began to laugh!
You, again…
You, show yourself
in a vast array of splendor.

Again, the wind gathered itself
carrying a ‘leaf’
and me
beneath the night’s sky.

Drops of Color…The Ceiling

 

The Ceiling

The scaffolding—
a wooden floor.

Splinters—soft,
hay-like as I lie on my back
nestled in.

Over my head—
a matte.

From a quilted tip
a simple line flows—
another follows.

In my memory—
traces of masterpieces a hundred years and
beyond filled a ceiling.

NOW—I AM ‘re-creating.’

A space between—
stories, divine revelations…
meaning, understanding, lasting
impressions.

All GOOD, even with dark shadows
casting sides un-frightened to be
exposed.

The artist long ago…
A Soul bleeding colors
unstoppable

so, too, I.

The ceiling—
the one above my being
rumbles then quakes…

I am being MOVED—
I slide across wooden floor boards.

Jabbed—my hands, my feet
my side

I am bleeding.

The ceiling ‘cracks’—

I cannot leave
the colors 
seeping from within me.

Drops of Color
Conscious
re-creations forming.

A tree holds 
the center—
Roots spread infinitely in an
expansive Universe.

For a moment…
I stand

I will be back—
simply going for
MORE colors.

The ceiling,
THIS matte,
a Dome of Transformation.